


Feral Thoughts and Realistic Knots

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Series: Winchester Toys [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breeding, Crying, Derogatory Language, Humiliation, Knotting, M/M, Monster Roleplay, Rape Roleplay, Rough Sex, Slurs, cock sheath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3785437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam engage in a roleplay where Dean is a werewolf intent on fucking slightly-helpless, hunter Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feral Thoughts and Realistic Knots

**Author's Note:**

> Please make sure you have read the tags. 
> 
> Noncon roleplay. These are adult characters in an established relationship, who are both consenting to fantasy roleplay of a non-consensual situation. 
> 
> If there is any chance this will squick/trigger you, I would ask that you not keep reading. I really cannot be more clear about the content of this fic.

Slipping [the sheath](http://bad-dragon.com/products/wereablewerewolf) down over his cock is strange. It’s not like rolling on a condom, especially once he can feel the texture on the inside of the silicone. It takes a few tries to get the ballstrap settled comfortably, and then Dean is holding his silicone-covered cock in his hand. The material is deep red and satiny under his touch. He thumbs along the ridge of a molded vein, tracing it down to the thick knot at the base. 

Fuck, he feels dirty with this thing on, and he still has to show Sam.  

Sam lays right where Dean left him, stretched out on the bed and stroking his own cock languidly. He sits up as soon as Dean leaves the bathroom, eyes zeroing in on Dean’s cock and staying there even as his brother reaches the side of the bed. Dean lets the weight of the sheath pull his cock down, angling it directly at Sam’s face as he stands between his legs and he thrills a little at the other man’s gasp. 

“Can I?” Sam asks, and Dean would laugh at his gobsmacked expression if he wasn’t so nervous himself. He rocks his hips, thrusting his cock toward Sam and thankfully he takes it for the invitation Dean means it to be. 

Now, it’s Dean’s turn to gasp when Sam grips his cock, squeezing and pulling lightly. The motion causes the sheath to slide ever so slightly and the texture rubs deliciously along his shaft. Sam’s hand settles around the knot, squeezing there and Dean can see the want on his face.

“It’s so thick.” 

“Yeah it is. You sure you’re ready?” 

“Oh God yeah.” Sam’s voice comes out breathless, and Dean bites his lip at how needy his brother sounds right now. 

“Safeword?” 

Sam looks at him tenderly, but answers immediately. “Riot. Yours?” 

“Panic.”

Grabbing Sam by his arms, Dean yanks him up and pivots, shoving his brother toward the other bed. Off guard, Sam stumbles and, with an extra push, lands in a sprawl on his belly. Dean’s plastered up behind him, shoving his shoulders down onto the bed and pinning his legs even as Sam is trying to lever himself up. 

“Down, bitch,” Dean growls, putting his weight behind one hand to shove Sam to the bed. 

“I’m not a bitch,” Sam bites back, struggling against the weight on top of him. 

“You sure? This says different.” Fingers from Dean’s other hand shove against his hole, sliding through the slick there and he doesn’t hesitate to push two inside. “Nice and wet,  _bitch_.” 

Sam’s yell is muffled against the bedding, and his struggles renew, trying to push up enough to get the monster off, to get away. He stops a moment later at the feel of teeth against his shoulder. They press hard, not quite breaking skin but the threat is there.

“No,” Sam gulps, stilling. “No, don’t-”

Dean pulls his teeth free only to speak. “Then be a good bitch. Spread your legs, present yourself to me, and maybe I won’t turn you.” His words are punctuated with harsh thrusts of his fingers that make Sam pant. The pressure on Sam’s legs lessens, and he spreads them slowly, feeling the way it further exposes his vulnerable hole, especially when he arches his back. He’s shaking, and he presses his face into the bed to block out the view of his trembling hand, to hid the burn of shame in his cheeks. 

“Mmm that’s it,” Dean murmurs, nipping a sharp warning into the soft flesh of Sam’s neck before pulling away. Grabbing one of Sam’s wrists with the hand not currently busy with finger fucking his ass, Dean shoves it against the small of his back. It causes Sam to arch even further, and Dean laughs in a way that sends a chill up Sam’s spine. “Even better. Now I can see your hole, want to get a  good look before I fuck it.’

“And this-” he says, pulling his fingers out and rubbing some of the wetness on his fingers over Sam’s hole before shoving back in “-this isn’t slick is it? No, you’re not a true bitch, not yet. Just a little human slut, wet with come and stretched from cock. Guess I’ll have to make you a bitch for real, won’t I?” 

A third finger gets pushed in roughly with the others, and the burning stretch breaks the dam on Sam’s ability to speak. “Please, st- ah! -stop, please!” His last word crests on a cry as thick fingers shove deep into him, while the other hand tightens on his wrist enough to send a sharp flare of pain. 

“Why should I? What could you possibly have to offer me, hunter? I’ve got what I want right here.” The low voice behind him goes smooth, dangerous. “Unless you want to be turned or be food? I suggest you let me take what I came for.”

Sam whines low in his throat. Bitten, fucked, or food? Tears sting in his eyes at the thought. What kind of choice is that? 

“No,” he moans out, when those fingers are pulled out and the wet tip of a cock takes their place. It’s the only hesitation the monster above him has shown, and there’s a faint flicker of hope in Sam’s chest. 

One that goes out quickly. The teeth are back, digging harshly into the back of Sam’s neck and he cries out in pain and fear. 

“No? You want this then,” Dean snarls, sinking his teeth back in briefly, “-or you want your heart ripped out?” 

“N-no,” Sam whispers, feeling the first tear roll down his cheek. 

“Then shut up.” Dean lets his wrist go then, hands grabbing his hips in a bruising grip, and shoving the head of that pointed cock into Sam’s hole. In one long thrust, Dean buries himself up to his knot with a grunt. He can see Sam fist the sheets, can feel the resistance as he instinctively tries to scramble away, the sudden tension when he tries not to fight. He also hears the long, shuddering cry it tears from Sam’s mouth. 

“Sammy?” Dean asks, heart in this throat. “Sammy are you-” 

“I’m good, Dean. I’m so good. Green all the way. Please don’t stop, unless you’re...?”

“No, I’m good.” 

Taking a deep breath, Dean refocuses, drawing out, drizzling more lube over his cock, and thrusting back in hard as he tosses it aside. He fucks in brutally, listening to the way slick and flesh combine into a rough  _slap, slap, slap_  that fills the room, overshadowed only by mewls and pleas that fall from Sam’s lips. There are little moans, too, and tiny  _ah-ah_ cries every time his knot slams against Sam’s hole. 

“Knew you’d take it like a good bitch,” Dean grunts. “Tight for a slut, but your guys probably aren’t built like me, are they?” He spares a moment to roll his hips, emphasizing the swell of the knot before going back to thrusting. Sam’s stuttery gasp makes him laugh. “No, they’re not made to breed you up like I will.” 

Dean is racing toward orgasm, and he shifts his hands from Sams hip’s to his shoulders, grip just as tight there. He’s going to be covered in marks for days, and Dean can’t help but smirk at the thought. Lifting up further on his legs, Dean changes his angle so he’s sinking deeper on each thrust, and the cry Sam gives nearly causes him to falter. 

“Can feel that, can’t you? Gonna knot you, have you hanging off my cock like a bitch should.” Dean grinds deeper, growling as he feels the knot stretch Sam wide and he shudders when he feels it sink into place. It’s impossibly tight and he can feel the flutter of muscle as Sam’s body tries to adjust to the knot. A particularly hard clench makes him come with a low cry that he grits into a growl, rutting shallowly through his orgasm. 

“Please.” The word is a plea for more, nearly bitten back. Sam’s back twitches below him, hands clenching and unclenching in the sheets as Dean watches.

“You gonna beg, hunter? Say it again.”

 "Fuck,  _please_.”

Sliding one hand down and around Sam’s waist, Dean finds him hard and Sam shudders when Dean’s hand wraps around him, stroking firmly. Rocking the knot forward, Dean breathes out “Go on, bitch. Come.” 

Come pulses over Dean’s hand as Sam’s cry fills the room, and he curses when his sensitive cock gets squeezed by the contraction of muscles. Sam’s legs finally give out, sliding down the slippery fabric of the cheap bedspread. He whimpers a little when the movement tugs at the cock still knotted in his ass, and Dean makes a soft sound to soothe him. 

Carefully, Dean sits up on his knees, using one hand to pull Sam’s cheeks apart, the other holding the base of the sheath as he slowly pulls out. He swallows hard, because the thick knot has left Sam gaping, and the tip of the cock is followed by a small dribble of come. 

“Jesus, Sammy,” he mutters, sliding the sheath off and tossing it on the bed. There’s no blood, no tearing that Dean can find when he checks his brother, and Sam offers just a small moan in protest of the stimulation. “Come on, roll over for me.” 

Sam rolls over dutifully, and Dean’s heart clenches a little at the sight of Sam’s face. There are tear tracks, both wet and dry on his cheeks, spots of color all over his face. Snagging tissues from the bedside, Dean pulls his brother to him and starts to wipe off his face. Sam allows the treatment for a moment, then buries his face against Dean’s neck with a snuffle. Dean just holds him tight, knowing this is what he needs for now.

“Holy fuck,” he murmurs eventually. 

“Is that good or bad?” Dean asks softly. 

“God Dean. That was so good. You did so good,” Sam laughs a little. “You make a pretty scary werewolf.” Sam sits up and studies Dean’s face, cupping it gently with one hand. “Was that alright? Are you okay?” 

“Yeah man. Just intense, you know?” 

Sam hums an assent and tugs Dean into his arms. He strokes over his back gently until Dean relaxes, whispering soft words of praise and thanks into his ear.

“Mm. Shower, then food?” Sam suggests. 

Nodding, Dean slides off the bed and follows Sam into the bathroom. They press close under the hot spray, washing away lube and come, taking turns to massage kinks out of each others shoulders and back until the hot water runs out. Sam makes the call out for pizza before sliding under the covers of the clean bed next to Dean, cuddling close as the older brother flicks through channels for something to watch while they wait for the delivery man. 


End file.
